Weeping for a lost love
by Assya B
Summary: An old lady tells you about the Weeping Angels. (Dull summary, I know.)


**AUTHOR'S NOTE**

_This is the first story I post here, it's rather short and I don't know if it's any good but here you go. I apologise in advance if I made any mistakes, English isn't my mother tongue and I translated the text from French myself. (Help would be welcome if you see mistakes.) Please review and enjoy ~_

_**Steven Moffat created the Weeping Angels and the BBC owns Doctor Who, this story is for entertainment purposes only. (This story is inspired by a post on Tumblr.)**_

* * *

I was in a cemetery once to visit a friend's grave when I saw an old lady sitting on a bench and looking at every single angel statue in the cemetery. I sat next to her, looking at my friend's grave when she spoke.

- Do you know the Weeping Angels? she asked me.

- The statues? I said.

- No, the living creatures, she answered.

Seeing that I didn't understand what she was talking about, she started to explain everything to me and she told me a story. Here is what she said, her words exactly.

* * *

" The Weeping Angels. One of the most feared species in the Universe. Merciless killers, ruthless murderers who feed on the days you should've had. Without any feelings, according to some people. They are wrong. Didn't you ever see an angel in a cemetery, lying on a grave and looking like it was in deep pain? Or desperately trying to reach something invisible with pain written across its face? If you've already seen some and now that you know the other side of the coin, what they really are; don't you start to ask yourself why those angels never moved? Why they were always at the exact same place? Well, let me tell you a story that may answer these questions.

When I was much younger, I had a very close friend. She was beautiful, so much that even the angels bowed before her, like her grandmother used to say. She didn't know how right she was. Oddly, there were angels all around her. Any place we were going to, a statue representing an angel was there: in front of a church, in a deserted park, in the middle of the forest, on our high school rooftop. When I told her, she simply answered that I should stop talking to her gran because they always had been here. I thought that she was right, that I was becoming crazy and I stopped thinking about it. For almost a year, I didn't mentioned it. But quite often, when we were at her house, I felt like we were being observed. Often, when we were in class, I thought I saw a shadow with big wings near the window. But I didn't say anything. Until the day when, after her gran's death, we were in the cemetery. I remember that we were with her when she passed away. She only told us one thing: "I will see you again, my child." We thought she was delirious. Today, I think she knew more than we thought. That day, in front of the grave, I can still picture it like it was yesterday. Everything happened so fast. My friend was lying on the stone memorial, crying. I went to buy some flowers. When I came back, an Angel was behind her. A statue. I didn't understand how I didn't notice it before. Its hand was near her shoulder, like the angel was trying to comfort her and in a blink, she vanished. Leaving a statue with an expression of unbearable pain on its face. I looked for her for a long time, thinking she left, that her loss was too hard to stand. And when I came back to the cemetery, the Angel was lying on the grave next to her late grandmother's. My friends' notebooks were next to this new grave, I thought she leave them here. A few words were written on the first page, hardly readable: "I'm sorry, she's gone. I'll weep on her grave for the test of my days." I gave the grave a closer look and I saw my friends name written in golden letters above a simple sentence: "Gran wasn't nuts."  
For a long time, I searched for answers and I found some. I went to the cemetery quite often, to see her grave. And the angel was still here. Sometimes it wasn't in the same position but it was still weeping on the grave.

I don't claim that I know everything but I can swear that like almost every living creature, Weeping Angels have feelings.  
If you ever see an angel weeping in a cemetery and it looks sadder than the others, if it looks sincere, think about it: it may have lost the love of his life."

* * *

To be honest, I didn't believe her. But I started to come to the cemetery more often, just in case she might be right. And I saw the angel she told me about. The first time I saw it, it was lying on the grave, like in her story. But the second time, it looked like it had moved. The angel who had its face buried in his arms was now looking at me and in a blink, it was back to his previous position.

I don't know what to think, I don't know what to believe. And I never saw that old woman again. But a few days ago, I went to the cemetery again and I can swear that one of the names on the grave wasn't there the last time I came.


End file.
